Memorial Eve
by Technomad
Summary: The night before the commemoration of the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry visits the memorial...and meets someone unexpected, with unexpected reasons to be there.


Memorial Eve

by Technomad

"Can't you sleep?" asked Ginny Potter. It was three in the morning, and Harry was sitting up in their room over the Leaky Cauldron.

"No. I usually can't, on this night. You know why."

"Then go out and take a walk. You'll need some sleep before tomorrow."

It was the night before May 2, and five years previously, the Battle of Hogwarts had loomed on the horizon. Neither Harry, nor Ginny, nor any of the others who had called themselves "Dumbledore's Army," had expected to live past the battle. Sometimes Harry still felt like everything since being hit with Voldemort's Killing Curse was a dream, like that story he'd read in Muggle school, "An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge."

Deciding that Ginny had a good point, Harry got up and shrugged into some clothes. Leaving quietly, he crept downstairs; the Leaky Cauldron was quiet, but every room was full. The annual commemoration of the Battle of Hogwarts, and the end of the war against the Death Eaters, was coming in the morning. Harry sighed; he'd be expected to make a speech, along with Neville and the other surviving leaders of Dumbledore's Army. He quirked a smile, thinking of how Luna would manage to do something unexpected, but endearing. Once she had shown up wearing a fruit-hat she had made after seeing a Carmen Miranda movie somewhere.

Diagon Alley was quiet; Gringott's was open, since some of its clientele were nocturnal and the goblins cared less about day-night cycles than non-subterranean races, but everything else was closed down tightly. Harry paused, looking up and down the narrow street. It reminded him of the Shambles in York, where he had gone once with Ginny, Ron and Hermione.

At one corner, near where Knockturn Alley branched off, a tall stone memorial stood. At the top of it was a statue of a seated, weeping witch, her face cradled in her hands as she gave in to inexpressible grief. On the sides of the memorial were carved names and dates of death. Harry walked closer to see. He had seen this memorial many times, and had helped unveil it, but had never really looked at it closely.

He began reading names, remembering the people who had borne them.

**Lavender V. Brown, died 2 May 1998**

_The innocent and the beautiful have no enemy but time_.

**Colin R. Creevey, died 2 May 1998**

**Dennis R. "Ray" Creevey, died 2 May 1998**

_Sometimes being a brother is even better than being a superhero_.

**Teresius W. Boot, died 2 May 1998**

**Michael J. Corner, died 2 May 1998**

One man in a thousand, Solomon says, may stick more close than a brother.

_But the Thousandth Man will stay by your side, to the gallows-foot…and after_.

**Rowan Glynis, died 2 May 1998**

_She flew so high and well, she joined the angels' team_.

**Viktor Krum, died 11 March, 1998.**

"_Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth  
>And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings...<em>

_And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod  
>The high untrespassed sanctity of space,<br>Put out my hand and touched the face of God."_

Harry paused in his reading, to wipe tears away. He remembered Krum's virtuoso performance, at the first Quidditch World Cup he had ever attended. These days, he always had a seat of honour, and occasionally even was allowed to commentate. At that moment, he'd have given anything to have Krum back, to sit with him at a Quidditch game and discuss the Seekers' performances.

He heard a strange rustling at the other side of the monument, and went around to see what it was. A cloaked, hooded figure was leaving a wreath at the foot of the plinth, and Harry heard a muffled sob. The figure straightened up, and Harry found himself staring at Narcissa Malfoy.

For a second, they looked at each other, too shocked to speak. Harry hadn't seen her since her trial, when he had gone to bat for her and prevented her and her son from going to Azkaban. His eloquent testimony in their favor had swayed the Wizengamot to merely fine them, allowing them their liberty.

After a brief pause, Narcissa spoke. "Mr. Potter. Fancy meeting you here." Her voice seemed hoarse, as though she had a frog in her throat. She threw back her hood. Her blonde hair was as resplendent as ever, but her eyes were suspiciously shiny.

"I never thought I'd see you here, Madame Malfoy. And considering that you saved my life, I'm 'Harry'…if that's all right with you." Harry knew that if Narcissa hadn't distracted Voldemort, the Dark Lord would have been perfectly capable of doing something like cutting his head off to stick it on the end of a spear; that would have killed him, immunity to the Killing Curse or no.

"Thank you, Harry. What ever made you think I wouldn't be here?" She sounded honestly curious. "Or did you forget that this monument commemorates _all_ the dead? Even Tom Riddle's up there!" She pointed at a name, and Harry stepped closer to read it.

**Bellatrix Black Lestrange, died 2** May**, 1998**

_Without the darkness, there would be no light_.

"She was many things…but she was, before anything else, my sister. We shared a childhood, and a million memories. I know what she became…no one better…but we never stopped being sisters." Narcissa gave a strange little laugh, almost like a sob. "Sisterhood is a life sentence."

"But you still have Andromeda…" Harry began.

"Andie and I _both_ mourned Bella sincerely," Narcissa said flatly. "At least Andie was free after the battle, and able to do the necessary things. The funeral was very private, for reasons that should be incredibly obvious." She gave Harry a sour smile. "People who'd have run from her in fear when she was alive would have thought it a triumph to disrupt the funeral or to desecrate her grave."

Harry had a memory flash before his eyes; the first time he'd seen his parents' graves in Godric's Hollow, on Christmas of 1997. He then imagined how he'd have reacted to their graves being vandalized…and shook with rage for a second, before mastering himself.

"But why are you laying flowers _now_?" he finally asked.

Narcissa cocked a sardonic eyebrow, looking, for a second, very like Draco. "I didn't think I'd be welcome…_tomorrow_."

Harry came to a decision. "You will be. It's time we started healing all the divisions in our world. Luna was right…as usual. We can't afford to cast a fourth of our numbers into Outer Darkness." He reached out and took an unresisting Narcissa's hand. "What you did, you did for the love of your son and husband. My mum would have understood your motivations completely. Be here tomorrow, and nobody will say a word against you."

OOO

Next day, at the observances, many people were very surprised at what they saw. Harry Potter was there, and gave a gracious speech, as expected. However, in addition to his wife Ginevra, he had none other than Narcissa Malfoy on his arm. He made it clear without a word that anybody who objected to her presence would answer to _him_. The veterans of Dumbledore's Army were startled, but Harry was still, and would always be, their Commander-in-Chief. They formed an impromptu guard, keeping Harry, Ginny and Narcissa away from anybody who might cause trouble.

After the speeches, Harry looked up at the top of the monument, which was wreathed in strings of flowers and paper origami cranes, in memory of those lost. He remembered the day of the unveiling, when Luna had named the statue "Hogwarts Mourning," and chosen the inscription below it, above the lists of names.

Jeremiah 31: 15

A voice was heard in Ramah, lamentation, and bitter weeping; Rahel weeping for her children, refused to be comforted for her children, because they were not.

THE END


End file.
